White Blank Page
by claraowl
Summary: "Why... Why you, always you? Why, out of all the humans on this earth, must I fall in love with you?" Takumisa. Oneshot. Paranoid rating.


**Greetings, all! Please enjoy. ^^**

**I own… not a thing… not a darn thing. Excuse me while I go darn the hole in my jeans… actually, I shan't now, even though I need to, as I've got something to publish. :)**

_ Misaki strolled down the street of her hometown, one hand absently resting on her baby bulge. A smile curved her lips; her thumb traced the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. Her husband - protective, even if he'd seemed like a jerk at first – had raised quite a fuss about her going out alone; however, through a combination of his procrastination-caused work pile and her puppy eyes, he had relented. So now, she traipsed down the street at her own pace, happy as the proverbial clam. The sun was shining, the air was clear; it seemed as if nothing could go wrong. _

_ Of course, as soon as you think that nothing could go wrong, everything does – just to prove you wrong. How irritating._

_ "Prez? Is that you?"_

_ Misaki froze. She knew that voice; how could she not? She had been pestered by that voice all through high school, right up until the day that its owner had left for England. She had thought that the owner of that voice had long since drowned in icy waters, when the ship went down; was she hallucinating? How could it be back now – even he couldn't have survived a catastrophe like that… could he? She had gone to the funeral ceremony – they had had no body, and so had not been able to hold a true funeral, but had just honored his name, lit candles, and prayed. Her memories from that time were a blur – she had been, according to the man who was now her husband, inconsolable. She had refused to believe that he was gone, that he had broken his promise so easily; she had never considered him destructible – he had always seemed so impervious to anything harmful. That had been four years ago. She had moved on eventually, and slowly fell for the man who had comforted her through the tragedy. They had married a year ago; she now carried his child. _

_ So now, she could scarcely believe that his voice was once again dancing about her ears and into her heart, reopening the wound that had never truly healed. She turned slowly, unwillingly; it had been like this for the first few months after the news had gotten out – people from Seika had come up to her in the street, hardly recognizing her. She had, in her misery, thrown herself into her work, resulting in a skeletal appearance. Part of her wanted to believe that this was just another such occurrence, but the part of her that had never let go knew better. There was no mistaking his appearance, just as there had been no mistaking his voice. _

_ "Usui," she blinked._

_ "Hey, Ayuzawa," he smiled, shattering her heart once more. "Or," he inquired, glancing from her stomach to her left hand, "do you go by a different name now?"_

_ "Igarashi," Misaki murmured. "Just call me Misaki. It's been long enough."_

_ "Then Takumi is fine," he replied. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in a while."_

_ "Oh, I've been lovely," she hissed, her voice dripping acid. "I only thought that you'd died, and then nearly worked myself to death. Then I finally gave up on you – do you know how long that took me? – and moved on. You've been alive this whole time, and you never even contacted us – any of us! Do you know what we've been through – not just me, but the Usui family, our friends, not to mention all the people from Seika – thinking you were gone?"_

_ "Why would you think that?" he murmured, confused._

_ "Your bloody ship sank, and you were unaccounted for! What else would any sane person infer from that?" Misaki spat, fighting tears. "And now you just think that you can waltz right back into our lives – my life – without anything changing?"_

_ "I got washed ashore in France! I had nothing with me, and no way to prove who I was – I've been trying to get back, but it was difficult!" Takumi broke in, now feeling slightly frantic. _

_ "Oh, yes, difficult," she laughed humorlessly. "You had our numbers memorized – at least, I know that you knew mine. Why didn't you try calling me if you were in trouble? Did you think that I wouldn't help you?"_

_ "It just… never occurred to me. I didn't want to bother you," he protested weakly._

_ "Wouldn't you have wanted to be bothered if I had been in a similar situation?" she demanded, tears stinging her eyes. _

_ "Yes, but –"_

_ "But nothing! I thought you were _dead_!" _

_ "I tried to get back."_

_ "You never even called." Her voice had dropped, now dangerously quiet. "You never had any sort of contact with us, never even gave us the slightest hint that you were alive. Now, you expect –" she grabbed his shirtfront, tears streaming freely down her face, "—you expect to be able to waltz back in? Why… why you? Why?"_

_ "Why what?" he led her to one side of the sidewalk, ignoring the stares they were attracting. _

_ "Why," she choked, "can you just waltz right back into my life and have me still want you? Isn't love supposed to be happy, not gut-wrenchingly painful?"_

_ "I –" he paused, lost for words._

_ "Why? Why you, why me? Why both of us, now? I'd just gotten my life back in order…" her voice broke. "So why, why do I have the urge to drop absolutely everything and come back to you? Why… why could I never truly… fall out of love with you?"_

_ "But Misaki," he whispered, tangling his fingers into her hair as she sobbed into his chest, "where was the fault in my loving you, or you loving me?"_

_ "Nothing… there _was_ nothing at all. That's the problem!" She pounded on his chest with her fists, half-howling, "But now I'm married, I'm pregnant – and you've waltzed right back in! Why? Why you, Takumi? Why do I need you more than I ever needed him – why must you come back now, after I'd given up all hope? Why must it be you – always you? Why, out of all the humans on this planet, must I still be in love with you?"_

And as he opened his mouth to reply, her dream shattered. She sat up in bed, tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving with sobs. Her hands flew to her stomach, to check; relief overwhelmed her when she felt no baby bump. Huddling herself, her fingernails digging into her thighs, she rocked back and forth on her bed, her breathing nothing more than gasps and sobs. Her house was empty that night; no one was there to hear her cry. Suzuna was with a friend; their mother was working the night shift. Misaki was left alone with her nightmare, of a life moved on, of a feeling unquenchable yet unobtainable.

Her phone rang. She ignored it; how could she talk in this state?

Her tears dried, slowly; she disentangled her limbs and got a glass of water from the kitchen. She felt calmer now as she walked back to her room, willing to laugh at her nightmare; after all, what was so bad about moving on after someone she had never really loved had died, only to have that someone return? What was so terrible about it? Nothing, right? Everything couldn't be wrong, could it?

As it transpired, it could.

Her phone rang again; this time, she answered.

"Yo, prez. Strange for you to be up this late."

And just like that, her façade shattered. The tears she had dammed behind her eyes burst forth, rolling down her cheeks; her breathing became once more heavy, gasping. She fought it, valiantly, but lost against the surge of her emotions.

"Ayuzawa? What's wrong?" his concern showed in his voice; panic was an underlying note. "Ayuzawa, answer me."

She couldn't; her breathing was too hitched, her face and tongue wet with her own tears. She choked on her words, unable to do more than breathe. How could a simple dream be this debilitating? How, _why_, did it concern her what he did, where he was – what he did after she had married in some alternate reality? Why should it bother her in this reality, in her mind, her world?

"Misaki!" he was frenzied, now, by her non-answers; a flurry of movement could be heard. "Misaki, where are you? Tell me, I'll come."

"H-home," she choked, trying to stem her flood. "Don't –" but it was useless; she couldn't say any more than that, couldn't tell him to stay away. How could she? Why should a dream concerning him have such an effect on her? Why him at all – why her? Why – the resounding word from her dream.

"I'm on my way, Misaki," he assured her fervently. "Hang on."

She cut the line, trying to pull herself together. _Why?_ She forced herself to move, to get a robe, to do anything. She had to be standing, had to let him in… even if she had never wanted to accept him in the first place. _Why?_ She had to, for whatever reason, ask him; her head was spinning with questions, and he held the answers. She was already through the looking glass; she might as well taste the madness that surrounded her.

All too soon, a pounding knock sounded at her door. She steadied herself, glancing through a window to confirm the identity of the caller. A slight, mad smile grazed her lips; why, she did not know. The lock came undone by her hand, and the door opened to reveal her panicked – what? What was he, to her? Why, and who, was he to appear in her dreams at all, much less one of that caliber? The tearstains on her cheeks told a story, but which one was up to fate.

"Misaki," he murmured, entering and closing the door behind him, eyes hungrily taking in her appearance, searching for any marks of harm. His gaze stalled on her cheeks, taking in the tracks left by misery. "Who is responsible?"

Her dam broke anew, her answer startling him to his knees before her. "You."

"What?" he choked, reaching up, placating, yearning to touch her yet afraid to somehow cause more damage.

"Not what," she laughed, sinking down in front of him, gazing madly at his bewildered, pained expression, "but why! Why you, Takumi?"

"Why me… what?" his confusion elated her madness, her confusion, spreading it; he scarcely even noticed her use of his given name.

"Why must it be you, always you?" Her hands found his shirtfront, as they had in her dream; if she were to play this out in whatever reality this was, then she might as well do it properly. "Why do I need you more than I ever needed him – no matter which man that 'him' refers to – why? Why you, always… always you?"

He had his hands on her arms, trying to calm her while attempting to comprehend the flurry of questions bursting forth from her mouth. "Misaki, please calm down! Please –" his pleas were cut off by her next question, sending her reality and his daydreams crashing together.

"Why, out of all the humans on this planet, must I fall in love with you?" Her whispered questions were louder than any sound he had ever heard, more penetrating than any wail of the wind on forsaken nights, more heartrending than any destruction.

"What's wrong with you loving me, or me loving you with all my heart? Where is the fault in it?" Takumi whispered, his eyes riveted on the mad woman before him, too busy trying to figure out how to calm her to relish her confession.

"Why?" she murmured, burying her face into the folds of his shirt. "Why…?"

"I don't know," he whispered, holding her to him. "I don't know why, but I'm grateful… I would be, I mean, unless it causes you this much pain."

"Why…?" she echoed, her eyes closed as she took in his all-too-familiar scent. "Why…?"

"Misaki… look at me," he begged, hands on her shoulders. "What's so wrong with a love between us?"

"Nothing… nothing at all… that's the problem," she choked, refusing to release her grip on his shirt, denying his plea to meet his eyes.

"Then why –"

"Why indeed!" she shrieked, pulling away abruptly and throwing her hands into the air; her eyes remained closed. "Why? Why? _Why_ you? Why do you turn up in my dreams, why in ones like that, ruining something I've yearned for my entire life! Do you have any idea how much a stability like that would mean to me?"

He had no reply; his eyes were wide, taking in the madness before him. His grip on her shoulders slackened. She shook off his hands, her insane laughter returning.

"Stability – normality! My father left, left us swimming without land anywhere in sight! We had to struggle to stay afloat all these years, had to work ourselves sometimes harder than we could to be able to live! Finally, suppose that things settle into place – I grow up, marry, and have a child! And then you – _you _waltz back in, suddenly alive, tearing my heart into pieces and shattering my careful balance!" Her eyes snapped open, but seemed not to see him; rather, she seemed to look through him, as if he were a sketch on a piece of wax paper. "Do you have any idea what that kind of thing _does_ to me?"

He gaped at her, unable to comprehend the line between her dreams and whatever reality she had left in this sleep-deprived state. "Sort of?"

"'Sort of'? '_Sort of'?_" she rose, furious, to her knees. "Since the day we truly met, that day outside the café, you've actively destroyed the one thing for which I've always searched, and the best you can do is _'sort of'_?"

"Misaki, I didn't mean to –"

"I know." She slumped forward, hands finding his shirtfront once more as the fight left her body, her exhaustion resurfacing. "Takumi…"

The next second, every inch of his body, every bit of his senses, was aflame; trying to understand, he pushed his fingers through her tangled locks, searching desperately for the answer she hid in her spark. He broke from her, staring for a moment into her wide, amber eyes; then the spark died, the amber eyes closed, and she slumped forward, curling against his chest. Sleep claimed her once more, as abruptly as any of her other movements had been that bizarre night.

Smiling slightly in comprehension – after all, she had said stranger things to him in her sleep, and he now knew that she had truly spoken of a dream – he lifted her gently and carried her back to her sleeping quarters. He paused at her doorframe on his way out, in time to hear a soft whisper.

"…no fault in it, after all…"

**End! **

**That was my first takumisas in a reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally long time. I hope that it was up to par. If any of the events confused you, please let me know. I will explain. I'm very sorry for any possible confusion.**

**The ending feels kind of like a brick wall... abrupt. Does it work, or do you think it's too quick?**

**All of this was written while listening to Mumford and Sons' "White Blank Page."**

**Please review! :D**


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